


Close the Door

by stardust_made



Series: The Jealousy Series [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, POV Outsider, Pre-Slash, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-05
Updated: 2012-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-28 23:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardust_made/pseuds/stardust_made
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Five times John was jealous and one time he did something about it." Sherlock and John go to a nightclub on a case. An outsider's perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close the Door

  
People had started calling Big Tony Big Tony when he was fifteen. It was a good nickname, he thought. It made people keep away. It was also useful when you worked as security in a night club. Word got around. Not that he needed the warning at his job—apart from a few catfights, there was hardly ever any trouble. Tony didn’t like trouble, and he didn’t like violence. People didn’t believe that about him—they always reckoned that a big, rough-looking bloke had to like a bit of a scuffle, especially if he worked as a bouncer. But people were stupid. They also reckoned that you had to be gay to work in a gay club, and Tony wasn’t gay just like he wasn’t a violent man. He just didn’t have enough brains to get another job, and he didn’t want to work for drug dealers and other scum. What was left was manual labour. You had to have a special touch for building work and such, and Tony’s hands were just as clumsy as the rest of him. Good thing Carol never made him do DYI, and then go on and on about how useless he was, the way he knew some wives did.

So Tony had been happy to get steady jobs. He wasn’t as quick as he used to be in his twenties, but he was in good shape; what he’d lost in speed he compensated with size and strength. People liked him, too, and that helped. In his seven years on the job he’d not had one incident end badly. Tony had left his first job after a year because there was too much fighting—too much alcohol. The second job was in a City bar. It was a better one, and he had a good run there, five years. Then businesses started going down, and “Nightwatch” had to close. It was a sad day for everyone, especially for Mr McGowan, the owner. He was called Michael, but Tony never got used to calling him that.

Mr McGowan had been a good boss to the end—he put Tony in touch with Dave, who was his boss now. Mr McGowan had gone red like beetroot when he’d told Tony he knew about a job in a gay club. But Tony was all right with gay people. It was their business what they did and who they fancied. As long as they didn’t cause others any grief, each to their own. Dave offered Tony the job on the spot and Tony never looked back.

Now, the first time they met, Dave had told Tony there was some drug use in the club, but nothing really heavy, and no junkies. He’d warned him people sometimes had sex in the toilets and at the back. Tony thought it was better there was sex than swearing and fists. The hours were bad but the money was good, and they needed the money, what with Jamie’s special care. Tony had arranged to work only four shifts a week so it wasn’t too bad; he could still spend three evenings with Carol and Jamie. And everything was just as Dave had told him—better really. Before he started Tony told a few people about his new job and most of them went all funny. Everyone seemed to know everything about gay people, although Tony was sure those who talked the most didn’t know well a single gay person. Some of that talk had messed with his head, though—Tony had gone in his new job thinking there’d be sex on the dance floor all the time. But the customers were happy to dance and drink, and have a laugh and a flirt. They kept their private business for the private areas of the club. Carol had told Tony to learn to trust himself more, and then nagged him again to stop seeing some of his old mates from the sport's school.

All in all it was a nice job, if not a bit boring.

But first thing Monday evening Dave, looking a bit excited, called Tony to the office. There was another man in there, a middle-aged bloke, wearing a suit. He had grey hair and he looked sort of miffed. Tony worried something bad had happened—he was sure the man was a copper; he just knew it. It was all well, thank God, but Tony had been right about the man. “This is Detective Inspector Lestrade,” Dave said. The man gave him a quick smile and Tony relaxed. Dave continued, “Have a seat, Tony. DI Lestrade has an operation going on in the club tonight and he needs to talk to you about it.”

Tony really hoped it wasn’t anything too complicated, but it turned out it was simple enough. There was a man, who the police suspected was a customer of the club, and who had taken pictures of people, sex pictures, that he used to blackmail them. A young man had tried to kill himself because of all that, and that was how the police got involved. Someone undercover was going to try to find that dodgy bloke tonight. Tony wanted to say that just the regulars were way too many, but when there were more people around, he preferred to keep quiet unless someone asked for his opinion. The inspector was good, though—it was like he knew what Tony was thinking. He explained that they had someone who was really clever, and he would be able to track down the person, even get evidence—but he needed to look around. Holmes, his name was. There were going to be two coppers undercover, Holmes and Watson, but Holmes was the one who was going after the guy. Lestrade told Tony to keep an eye on the two men, then hesitated and added, "Mostly on Sherlock Holmes." He looked quite tired.

At this point Tony had to ask why they didn’t have more back up. Lestrade rubbed his eyes and said that the evidence hadn’t been enough to convince his boss to send more people in, and that Holmes and Watson weren’t working for the police actually, which made matters more complicated. Tony wasn’t sure what to make of all that so he checked with his boss—Dave nodded to him. Tony nodded to Lestrade and told him he’d make sure his men didn’t get hurt.

Half an hour later Holmes and Watson arrived. They weren’t the strangest couple he’d seen, but he wouldn’t have put them together himself. Holmes was tall and very thin—Tony could have broken him like a twig if he only hugged him tight. Watson was short and looked fit. Holmes was really odd; he stared too much, and his eyes were very strange, very light, like he was something out of Doctor Who. Tony wasn’t sure he liked him; he felt a bit awkward around him, more like it. Watson was nice. He shook Tony’s hand—good handshake, Tony read a lot into that—and chatted to him about the place. Holmes, Lestrade and Dave had a long talk. That guy Holmes was really clever—Tony couldn’t even follow everything he said. Watson kept himself to himself and had a cuppa, but Tony could see he was on edge. He and Holmes were obviously very into each other, never mind that they didn’t talk to each other all the time. Tony was proud he had learnt to spot that sort of thing.

Which was why he thought Dave had gotten something wrong when he told him—loving gossip more than an old woman—that Holmes and Watson weren’t together at all. “Just friends,” Dave said, lifting his eyebrows. “I asked,” he added. Tony’s face must have shown his surprise, because Dave patted him on the arm. “I know,” he said.

Last words outside, and Holmes and Watson—or Sherlock and John, like John told Tony to call them—disappeared. They were going to arrive in an hour and start their act.

The club started to fill slowly and by ten it was quite busy for a Thursday night. Tony did his usual rounds, kept one eye on the entrance, and the other on Holmes. It wasn’t hard—his dark head was easy to spot bobbing in the sea of people, and his face was very noticeable, too. Holmes moved around the dancefloor, visited the bar, and everywhere he went, he checked out people. He didn’t do it openly but if someone did catch him looking, Holmes gave him a flirty once over. Lots of guys tried to chat him up but he only stopped for a few of them. He let one guy buy him a drink, then left him just as the barman was passing him the drink.

All the time John followed him everywhere, sometimes close, sometimes from some small distance. Men were noticing him, too. A few tried talking to him, but he brushed them all off, his eyes fixed on his "friend". Tony felt sorry for John. It wasn’t easy to watch your loved one being ogled by half the men present. And in this case to also see him undo one or two of his shirt’s buttons—it was getting very hot—and press close to a couple of guys. Holmes never lingered for more than a few seconds but still, it wasn't right. Tony hoped Holmes knew what he was doing. Meanwhile John's face had fallen, but he still kept close and watching.

That went on for the first hour, and then they had an argument—the music was thumping and Tony was too far away to catch anything anyway, but it looked like Holmes was trying to shake John off. John wasn’t happy at all, but he quickly backed off, and disappeared somewhere. Tony definitely didn’t like Holmes now. He had seen enough drama in this place, but didn’t think these two would be like that.

Come eleven-thirty and now Alfie was hitting on Holmes like he was the next best thing since sliced bread, as Tony’s old man loved saying. Alfie was a regular; he was here every Thursday and Saturday. Chatty bloke, friendly, but Tony didn’t trust him. He knew him by name, because he was popular. Tony thought Alfie looked like that actor Carol fancied, Jude Law. Alfie must’ve known that as well, because he’d called himself “Alfie”, like Jude Law's character from the film. (The Missus had the DVD.) Tony was sure Alfie wasn't his real name. So Alfie was all over Holmes, and Holmes was loving it—he was smiling, touching his arm, giving him inviting looks.

Just as Tony had to go outside for a check, Holmes and Alfie headed for the toilets. Tony got confused; he looked around and finally found Dave, who just moved his head to show Tony that he should follow Holmes. Tony’s eyes came back to where the two men had been, but he'd lost them. In a moment he saw them already far back, turning the corner to go down to the toilets. Someone was eager! Tony started making his way through the crowd and wondered if Alfie was the man the police was after. He wouldn’t be surprised, really. Alfie never left the club alone—true, like half the people here—and he always got the nice, rich boys. He had the looks for it, of course, but Tony almost wanted it to be him. Maybe he was just jealous of Jude Law.

When Tony managed to get into the toilet, it took him a moment to find Holmes and Alfie. It was full. A few guys were fixing their hair in the mirror, a small group of people were talking, and quite a few people were kissing, People were coming in and out of the cubicles—the chatter was echoing, the music as well, and the space was just too crowded. Tony was about to start pushing the cubicles doors open when he found his target. But this time it wasn’t Holmes’ head that gave away where he was; Tony spotted John first.

John looked like someone had slapped him hard on the neck—his eyes were wide and popping out, and his mouth was open. Tony followed where John was looking, and saw Holmes and Alfie. He could now see why he’d missed them when he’d come in—the last cubicle door had been open and they'd been hid behind it. Now it was closed and there they were, snogging for England, hands flying everywhere. Tony started moving towards them, unsure. He was told to watch out for Holmes, but Holmes didn’t look in trouble at all. Now that Tony was closer, he could see the guy was really going for it, and Tony might not be gay but even he had to admit Holmes had the mouth for it. It was moving like nobody’s business, slowly, but it was a deep kiss—Tony could see their tongues pushing around in each other’s mouths. It all looked so indecent it made Tony embarrassed to watch.

He decided he wasn’t needed here after all so he made his way to the exit, but halfway through, someone called his name. Tony’s instinct made him sense the commotion before he knew what it was. He turned around and wasn’t surprised to see it was happening at the far end where he’d left Holmes, Alfie and John. Tony moved quickly. He could see John holding Holmes’ arm, voices were raising…Tony saw Alfie’s twisted face, then Alfie was pushing John—

Next think Tony knew, POW John’s fist went, straight to Alfie’s jaw, and it was enough to send Alfie crashing through one of the cubicles’ doors. Tony’s experience kicked in; he called at people to stand back as he pushed his way through, and was there in two seconds. People were gasping, some were talking loudly, someone laughed. And in the middle of it Holmes was the one staring open-mouthed at John. John was breathing heavy and was rubbing his fist. His eyes met Holmes’, and suddenly everyone was shouting at the same time. Holmes was shouting at John something about well done, and how Holmes had been _that_ close, and had been pickpocketing Alfie for some card. John was shouting back things like “And you enjoyed that, didn’t you?” and "Stop fucking around, I might be an idiot, but I know what I saw." Alfie was shouting from the cubicle floor some stuff that Tony didn’t quite catch, but there was a lot of swearing in it. And as it turned out that copper bloke, Lestrade, had burst in as well and was now shouting at everyone to leave.

When in doubt, Tony always thought it best to follow the police’s lead, and he knew his job well. He started getting everyone out while Lestrade quickly exchanged a few sentences with Holmes, then got Alfie on his feet and began handcuffing him and reading him his rights. On top of Lestrade’s words, Alfie was still shouting abuse, and Tony couldn’t hear what more Holmes and John said. But Holmes was now quiet and looking at John’s shoulder, while John was looking at his own feet, and was really red in the face. Tony pushed the last two people out and closed the door behind himself. He had so much to tell Carol when he went home later! He really hoped those two in there would be okay, though. 

**Author's Note:**

> Original entry at my Livejournal at [over here](http://stardust-made.livejournal.com/35788.html).


End file.
